Talk To You in 30 Years
The other day a friend apologized to me for running up to me at an event, asking me a question and running away to chase her two-year-old. She was worried I thought she’d been rude. I immediately had to think…wait, when did she ask me a question, what was it, and did I actually answer her? You see, I also have a two-year-old who is a giant CB. (No, no get your mind out of the gutter) A giant CONVERSATION BLOCKER.
I mean, honestly, I cannot remember the last time I was able to have a full conversation or complete a sentence with someone else when my child is around. I’m pretty sure there have been at least five to 85 people in the past two years who I have completely lost contact with simply because they have become convinced that I either have a severe case of adult undiagnosed ADD or that I am always on the verge of a mini stroke. I can’t complete a flipping thought to save my life. I repeat myself. I walk away from people mid-sentence. I walk away and never return or by the time I do actually return the person who I was trying to talk to is gone. I forget things, constantly. If it’s not written down in giant letters, with blinking lights and hanging on my actual forehead, I will forget all about it. So, it’s time for an apology.
Dear (insert name here),
I would like to say that I’m sorry.
I am so sorry that while you were telling me all about one of the most important parts of your day, week, year my two-year-old thought it would be a perfect time to take a massive poop and announce it to all who were in a 280 mile radius of us.
I am sorry that while we are trying to have a very serious conversation about real estate, politics, spouses, careers, reality TV, doctor visits, restaurant reviews, a new wine you recommend (do you have some with you now?!), home renovations, family, money, and vacations my two-year-old repeatedly yelled mommy at the top of his lungs until we both could no longer ignore it.
I am sorry that while we were trying to catch up about life in general my-two-year old was asking for a snack as if I haven’t fed him in 5 days, 6 hours and 3 minutes.
I’m sorry that by the time I got him said snack I literally forgot what we were talking about so we both put up the white flag and surrendered to the fact that we may never know. The conversation we were attempting to have has been put into a secret vault that only toddlers hold the key to.
I am sorry that the friend, sister, daughter, cousin, wife, niece, granddaughter who used to listen to you without any distraction is suddenly like trying to talk to a puppy, on crack, who just saw a squirrel and possibly has to pee.
Please take note that this is in no way a reflection of how I feel about you.
This is just me… oh crap my kid is chucking sand at another kid, oh shit he’s under water, oh my god how is he already up by the playground, HEY PUT THAT ROCK DOWN MISTER!!! What are you eating now??? Is it actual food??? Okay, sorry, where was I? And THIS is exactly what I mean.
Just know that I miss you and I promise when my child turns 33 I will be able to sit down and catch up on all the awesome things going on in your life.
Until then it’s literally going to be a crap shoot. I am left with no choice other than to tell you I will see you in 30 years, for now I surrender to the toddler.
My deepest apologies,
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